


Once in a Lifetime

by darkrose



Series: Walking on Broken Glass [3]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Canon, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, post-Alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose/pseuds/darkrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a rare period of quiet, Fenris and Julian contemplate how they got there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once in a Lifetime

_"And you may ask yourself,  
'How did I get here?'"_

Talking Heads, "Once in a Lifetime"

~ o ~

The Champion of Kirkwall was sitting cross-legged on the floor at my feet.

_Sewing._

Technically, he was mending his robes, which was no different than a fighter tending to his armor. But Tevinter magisters had slaves to do that--

_\--like my sister._

I shook my head, banishing any further thoughts of that treacherous bitch, and concentrated on combing my fingers through Julian's hair. He'd been letting it grow since we'd first met; it was past his shoulders now and looked better, I thought, than the short ponytail he'd had when we first encountered each other. Not that I'd ever tell him that; he was vain enough already.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Couldn't Orana or Bodhan take care of it?"

"There's a bit of a trick to it, with all the enchantments. I could show Orana, but it's faster to do it myself. Father taught Bethany and me how to do the magical stuff, since of course we didn't have Tranquil do that sort of thing." He made a face. "Bethany was much better than I was--she could actually make her own robes--but I do well enough. Carver can sew a bit, too; we all picked up a bit of everything when it comes to running a household."

I had become fairly fluent in Hawke, so I was able to pick the meaning out of the stream of words. The task was a connection with his sister and father, and perhaps a reminder of a time when there had been five Hawkes instead of only two who barely had a civil word for one another.

He turned to look at me, giving me that ridiculously endearing lopsided smile. "Bethy asked once why we didn't hire an el--a servant to help out; Father pointed out that he had three able-bodied children who should be more than capable of handling all the chores."

I snorted, both because I knew what his sister must have really said, and because the idea of a mage expecting his children--two of whom were mages themselves--to do menial labor still shocked me a little. Settling back into my chair, I returned to my attempt to puzzle through the latest book he'd suggested. It was a reversal of everything I'd ever known: the former slave seated comfortably, reading, while the mage sat at his feet doing servants' work.

It had been a week since I tore Danarius' beating heart--I was a little surprised he had one at all--out of his chest; a week since my reunion with my sister turned to bitter ashes. Only a week since my halting confession of affection for Julian. We had spent four evenings together, with me practicing my reading while he reviewed the household accounts, or sorted through his correspondence. It was peaceful and ordinary, and I wasn't sure what to make of that.

After a while, the letters seemed to be shifting and scuttling around the pages, so I closed the book. Julian paused and grinned up at me.

"Maker, we're appallingly domestic, aren't we?" He chuckled. "Who could have imagined this when we first met three years ago?"

"Do you mean after you killed that set of hunters? Before I knew you were a mage?"

Julian tilted his head and regarded me; when he spoke, the sardonic note was gone from his voice. "I've always meant to ask...did you really not know, at first?"

_A tall human, tall with dark skin and hair; he wears trousers under a long leather coat and an odd-looking sword belted at his waist. My markings itch slightly, which I attribute to residual magic from the now-dead hunters. He doesn't look down his large nose at me for being an elf and a fugitive slave, shows no anger at having been part of my trap, and seeks no compensation other than the pleasure of battling slavers. He smiles with his whole face, his generous mouth curved and teeth bared in a grin, eyes sparkling at the promise of mayhem._

_Not until we battle Danarius' summoned shades and I discover that his sword is really a staff and I see lightning arcing from his outstretched hand do I realize what he is._

"No, I didn't. You didn't exactly look like I expected a mage to look, after all."

He smiled. "My dashing good looks caught you off guard, right?"

I had noticed at the time that he was rather attractive, which made learning that he was a mage all the more disconcerting. I tugged on a lock of his hair. "It was curiosity more than anything else. I couldn't imagine how you actually thought you were funny."

"Hey!" He poked my ribs. "At least I didn't say what I was thinking that night."

"Do I even want to know?"

"When you were explaining about Danarius wanting you back, dead or alive, I almost said that would be a waste of a perfectly handsome elf. But I decided that would be tacky. Also, you might not be amused and you'd rip my heart out."

I stared at him for a moment, then shook my head. "Julian Hawke held his tongue. The Chantry should put that on the calendar."

"Well, I'm not holding it now," he said, sticking his tongue out at me. There was, of course, only one response to that. I bent down and kissed him.

Every time we kissed, it astonished me all over again. It wasn't just the taste of him, rich and heady with just a hint of sweetness, or the hungry little noises he made, or even the way his eyes fluttered closed when I slid my tongue into his mouth. It was that even after the foolish things I'd said and done, I still _could_ kiss him.

When we finally pulled away from each other, I slid off the chair to join him on the floor. He stretched out with his head in my lap, a clear invitation to stroke his hair. I was happy to accept it, letting the dark strands fall through my fingers. 

"It bothered me," I said at last. "I thought that maybe given time, I could figure out what game you were playing, and why you were pretending to treat me as you would anyone else, as though I wasn't a possession to be coveted."

Julian turned his head slightly and kissed my fingers, one at a time. "I coveted you, but not for your markings...because you were mysterious, and dangerous, and fucking gorgeous."

I could feel the tips of my ears growing hot; as usual, I had no idea how to respond to Julian's compliments. Instead, I chose blunt honesty. 

"When you came to see me the next day, you knocked."

Julian blinked. "Um...I grew up on a farm, but my mother didn't raise me in the barn, you know."

He didn't get it. Of course not; he'd never been a slave. "Danarius never knocked. I had nothing that didn't belong to him, not even myself. Certainly I had no privacy that he was bound to respect. You…acted as though I were a normal person. A free person. And yet, you were a mage. It didn't make sense to me." And perhaps there was a part of me that was relieved at the idea of a mage giving me orders, because at least that was familiar. Not that I would ever tell him that, no matter how close we had become.

"Huh. Well, I'm really glad I was considerate. I suppose it's a good thing I asked if you wanted me to deal with the corpses in your foyer rather than just torching them." 

I wouldn't have taken that well. "Yes, that was almost certainly the right call."

"So...." Julian wiggled in what he may have thought was an enticing manner. "Now that we've established how wonderful and thoughtful I am--and handsome, let's not forget that part--shall we move on to the make-up sex?"

"Julian...." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "We aren't fighting."

"Hmm. That's true. Celebratory sex, then?"

"What are we celebrating?" He looked serious for once, and I was afraid he was going to say "a week since you killed Danarius and we resolved things between us," which would have been uncomfortable. 

Then he grinned. "We're celebrating the fact that it's been a whole ten hours since we last had sex." He stood up, holding both hands out to me. After a moment's hesitation, I slid my hands into his, my markings glowing faintly and my breeches tightening rather dramatically.

"What about your...." I nodded toward the coat he'd tossed on the floor, "...mending?"

"It can wait."

"You know, if it hadn't been for Anso, we'd never have met," Julian said as he got to his feet. "I should send him a thank-you note. Maybe a fruit basket?"

"Hawke."

"Yes?"

I freed one of my hands from his long enough to grab a fistful of his hair and pull his head down to mine.

"You talk too much," I told him, and used my favorite way of shutting him up. There would be plenty of time for my second-favorite way later that evening, and for many evenings to come, if I dared to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> In order to make DA2 fit into my personal canon, I rearranged the timing of some events. I took pity on Hawke and decided "Alone" happened about a year after Hawke was named Champion.


End file.
